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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948571">Unwanted Nostalgia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast'>JamOnToast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>space cowboys [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, You have a blaster and you're not afraid to use it, gender neutral reader, no pronouns, the mandalorian chapter six</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:28:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You're Din's riduur and he's told you of his past with Xi'an. The day you meet the twi'lek isn't fun for anyone, least of all her.<br/>Based on the episode, contains references to my 'space cowboys universe'.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/Xi’an</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>space cowboys [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unwanted Nostalgia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>also posted on my tumblr @pumpkin-stars.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Working with a Mandalorian meant that you’d got good at keeping your face blank. Din could read you just as well as you could him, there was less need for an excessive expression when a slight change in body language or tone of voice could clue him in. You’d become something of an expert at deciphering Din’s different motions over the last five years. You could differentiate between different tilts of the head, each angle conveying something unique - <em>forward to the left</em> often meant fond exasperation, and after seeing him sans-helmet you could picture the exact quirk of his eyebrows and the twitch in his lips.<b><br/></b></p>
<p>His head wasn’t titled now, just straight, squared shoulders perfectly perpendicular to his neck. An intimidation tactic - the first movement you’d learnt all that time ago on Nevarro - designed to make him seem bigger, unmoving, dangerous.</p>
<p>You moved in much the same way, each of you picking up habits from the other. After so long in just each other’s company, and so long spent examining every reaction and movement, it was no wonder that you could mirror the armoured man’s positioning, presenting a united and immovable force to those who might do you harm. Or, as you’d experienced on Sorgan, expressing your affection through relaxed smiles met with a <em>backward-right</em> tilt of his head and the brush of gloved fingers against yours. When not in danger you were both far freer with your movements - when truly alone, both freer with your faces. After a lifetime of wearing your emotions in front of those you cared about, the stoic facade only came out during those few necessary times.</p>
<p>Like now.</p>
<p>You were used to the smell of fuel and engine oil, to the sound of clanging metal and the buzz of electric wires. But here, in this shitstick dump of a space station, everything seems louder, more intrusive… As though the group standing before you can see right through you.</p>
<p>Schooling your features means survival around people like this. Not everyone can stick a bucket on their head, after all. You can’t help being tense, however. Your hand rests on your blaster, jaw clenched - and it’s only Din’s apparent relaxed stance at your side that stops you doing something rash. Though unlike them, you’re all too aware of the loaded spring hidden by the beskar.</p>
<p>One wrong move and you’ll both fire before they can blink.</p>
<p>Or you would. But this is the only job you can find right now. The only job that doesn’t need the guild’s backing. After what happened on Nevarro it might be your only well-paying gig for the foreseeable, so as much as this twi’lek irritates you with her simpering laughter, you know you can’t put a bolt in her head.</p>
<p>Not yet, at least.</p>
<p>“I missed you.” She coos at Din, and you’re ashamed to admit it’s taken you so long to realise who she is, why Din was so reluctant to come here on the off chance that <em>someone who hurt me</em> will still be around.</p>
<p>You’re thankful, in a way, that this band of criminals has a ‘no questions’ policy. When you return with a dead twi’lek, they won’t ask why.</p>
<p>“This is shiny,” Xi’an taps Din’s chestplate. “You wear it well.”</p>
<p>His fingers twitch against his thigh, his discomfort only visible to you. You shift slightly, allowing your elbow to brush against his, an unneeded reminder that you’re with him. His head moves as Xi’an steps away, the others clearly assuming he watches her, but you know he’s thanking you for standing with him. You block out their bantering, having a silent conversation with the Mandalorian instead.</p>
<p>You don’t like this. Whoever it is that you’re rescuing is almost certainly not worth the trouble. It’s not worth sacrificing Din’s comfort.</p>
<p><em>It’s worth the credits</em>. He responds, a slight shift in his shoulders.</p>
<p>The group moves off then, sauntering to the Crest. The vambrace that controls the doors rests heavy on your arm as you reluctantly open your home to them, both of you eyeing each of the four with barely hidden distrust.</p>
<p>It’s only the droid that enters the ship, your pilot for this ‘mission’. Not something you’d agreed on, although your hatred for droids isn’t as strong as Din’s. You knew rewiring them was possible, had spent some time with your own band of rogues who’d reprogrammed an imperial KX-series. But Zero wasn’t reprogrammed, he was built for nefarious purposes, designed to work for Ran and his crew. The only commands he knew focused on how to get away with crimes, and even if he was a better pilot than Din, that accolade held no weight when he was just as poisonous as the rest of his group.</p>
<p>“That’s a New Republic prison ship.” You frown at the hologram, tense. It’s not at all what you signed up for. And if you weren’t sure they’d shoot you out of the sky, you’d grab Din by the arm and hightail it out of there immediately.</p>
<p>“We’re not looking for that kind of heat.” Din’s hands clench around the edge of the table.</p>
<p>“Well, neither are we. So just don’t mess up.” Kriffing stellar advice from the group’s leader. Never would’ve thought of that one.</p>
<p>Xi’an titters, “the good news for you is the ship is manned by droids. Still hate the machines, Mando?”</p>
<p>Before he can answer, Zero appears, insulting every modification the two of you have made recently, evaluating things you know aren’t up to scratch, things you’ve not had the time - nor the credits - to repair and maintain.</p>
<p>So yeah, he still hates the machines.</p>
<p>The only reason you’re here is because the Crest is off the grid. They don’t need Din, and they certainly don’t need you. It stands to reason that they’ll try to leave you behind, take the ship, take your home, take the kid (even though they don’t know he’s there). When - not if - it comes down to it, you’re sure you could take Xi’an and Zero, even Mayfeld at a push. Din could take Burg with some effort, and just a shot of luck, and you’re sure he can handle whoever you’re breaking out of prison. If you’re together, it’ll be even easier to take them all down.</p>
<p>But Xi’an is yours, and Din knows it. After what she did to him all those years ago, the promises she made and broke, and the naive heart she turned to stone and then to dust… The pain she caused your Riduur? There’s been a bounty on her head ever since he told you, and you have no intention of bringing her in warm.</p>
<p>As you board the ship, Ran waves you off, watching Din with a sickly sweet smile. “Just like the good old days, Mando, huh?”</p>
<p>Without a word, and unable to let go of the tension in his shoulders, Din clicks a button on his arm and the door seals you in. He follows Zero to the cockpit, but you remain below, perching at the door to the small cot, an extra barrier between them and the child. Your eyes slip shut as you do your best to block out their conversation, listening only to their movements and the groans of the ship, ready to lock a cabinet or jam a door with the slightest touch should they get too close to anything.</p>
<p>Din drops down off the ladder a few minutes later, just in time for Burg to crack the code to your weapons vault. Your eyes open, watching as your Mandalorian closes it, narrowly missing the red man’s face - even one as strong as him couldn’t hold back the hydraulics that seal it tight.</p>
<p>You stand, catching his arm as he goes for the panel at your side, fingers digging into his thick, weathered skin as he stares down at you. Din puts himself between you, shoulders squared, and your other hand goes to your blaster, ready to take them down.</p>
<p>It’s, surprisingly, Mayfeld who dissolves the tension, getting Burg to back off. Your hand moves to rest between Din’s shoulders, hidden from the others in a silent comfort. The muscles in his back shift beneath your palm as the group mocks his status, jokes at the decimation of his people, reminds him of his younger days - two and a half decades ago, when being a Mandalorian and fighting his way through life was all he knew. When the Creed’s oaths blurred and only <em>kill as necessary</em> remained at the forefront of his mind - when killing seemed necessary wherever he went.</p>
<p>“I know who you really are.” Xi’an smiles. Outwardly, he doesn’t react, but you’re close enough - physically and emotionally - to know he’s working his jaw, biting back a comment he knows he’ll regret.</p>
<p>“He never takes off the helmet?” Mayfeld frowns.</p>
<p>Xi’an laughs, deepening her voice. “This is the way.”</p>
<p>That’s your breaking point. The carefully crafted indifference slipping away as this rotting bucket of bantha fodder mocks the man you love, the man you know she never loved. She speaks of him as though she knows him, but she’s never seen his face, she’s never understood him, never cared for him as anything more than a hired gun.</p>
<p>“Just because you’ve never stood for anything doesn’t mean you can mock those who do.” You snap. Din’s fingers brush your side in warning, but you continue on, stepping forward. “I should gut you where you stand for what you did.”</p>
<p>Any remaining composure leaves you as she laughs in your face.</p>
<p>It’s only Din’s grip on your wrist that prevents you from drawing your blaster.</p>
<p>“I wonder what you look like under there,” Mayfeld drawls, seemingly amused by - or at least oblivious to - your deadly serious threat. “Maybe he’s a Gungan. Is that why <em>yousa</em> don’t wanna show your face?”</p>
<p>Burg laughs.</p>
<p>“You ever seen his face?” The sharpshooter turns to you.</p>
<p>“He’s not a Gungan.” You answer tersely, not a yes, not a no. Let them take it as they will.</p>
<p>They talk of trust. That for them to trust you, Din needs to show his face. As though you’re trusting them already and they need some quid-pro-quo. How you’d <em>ever</em> trust them is beyond you.</p>
<p>Burg goes for his helmet, and Din grapples with him, kicking him back towards the fresher. The Devaronian grabs the wall to steady himself, hand colliding with the panel. You and Din aren’t quite quick enough, and the hatch opens, revealing the kid’s curious face to the room.</p>
<p>“Whoa!” Mayfeld stands, “What is that?”</p>
<p>You pick him up, cradling him, shielding him from the others. Din sighs in your ear, quiet enough that the modulator doesn’t pick up on it. His head tilts <em>forward-left</em> as the kid coos at you.</p>
<p>“Did you two make that?” Mayfeld wonders, eyeing your little family. <em>Not a Gungan</em> doesn’t rule out Din being green, it seems.</p>
<p>Thankfully, for him, you don’t have a chance to retort, as the ship shudders suddenly, the tell-tale signs of leaving hyperspace making you all lose balance. Din grabs an overhead bar, his other arm winding around your waist, shielding you and the child from the worst of the shakes.</p>
<p>The ship rolls suddenly, knocking you back into the weapons store. The kid weighs heavy against your chest, and it’s only your quick reflexes - a hand cupping his head - that stops Din’s beskar from colliding with him. The Mandalorian finds himself pressed up against you, all of him touching all of you (except that spot where the kid rests). In any other situation, the helmet would lift and his amused lips would find yours, but alas, the company - the danger - prevents the move. When the ship settles, you hear the others grumbling, calling Zero useless after singing his praises earlier. Din holds your attention, however, his hand on your arm and the tilt of his head speaking for him.</p>
<p>
  <em>You okay?</em>
</p>
<p>“Jate.” You nod, he leans forward quickly, pressing his forehead to yours for a fraction of a second before he pulls back, letting you check the kid over. The smile on his little green face assures you, and you set him back down on the bed with instructions to “stay put.” He’ll ignore you, you know it. You’re not even sure if he can understand you, but he tilts his head <em>backward-right</em>, watching you - so similar to Din - and you can’t help but smile.</p>
<p>You make sure he’s comfortable, then seal the hatch, setting the alarm on your vambrace so it will flash if it opens again, whether the kid getting out, or the droid getting in. You nod at Din, and he turns to the hatch, the others looming above him to watch him work on cracking the code.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for you all to enter the ship, following Zero’s directions to the control room with only a handful of droids holding you up. Din took most of them down, earning thanks from no one except you. The last thing you’d expected to find was a human guard.</p>
<p>The least surprising thing was the immediate threats from your companions towards this unfortunate who was just trying to do his job.</p>
<p>He had a tracking beacon, and if Mayfeld had just given Din a moment longer, things would’ve gone smoothly, but alas, one of Xi’an’s daggers soon protruded from his side. And the tracking beacon was active.</p>
<p>It takes five of your remaining twenty minutes to locate the correct cell, and immediately you’re on edge. Xi’an seems a little too happy, Burg a tad too eager, and Mayfeld a little too tense.</p>
<p>Din’s posture shifts as the cell’s occupant is revealed. He’s been loose, ready to fight, move and adapt at the slightest moment… And now he’s stiff, limbs locked, breath coming faster…</p>
<p>You’ve never met Qin before today, but you know, without a doubt, that he’s who you’re rescuing.</p>
<p>As soon as the older twi’lek exists the cell, Burg’s hands are on you, pushing you backwards, you fall into Din, the momentum knocking you both to the floor, inside the cell.</p>
<p>The door shuts.</p>
<p>A cry of “you deserve this!” reaches you through the door, the group rushing from you, back to the <em>Crest</em>.</p>
<p>“Din-”</p>
<p>“Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur.” He mutters, you’re not completely sure of the translation, but the sentiment is clear. A droid passes, and you move to the side, letting Din snare it with his vambrace, ducking from the blaster before helping him pull its arm through the door. As he unlocks the cell, you smile.</p>
<p>“Ke nu’jurkadir sha Mando’ade.”</p>
<p>He turns to you, and even with the helmet you can tell he’s smiling just as much as you - breaking out of here reminds you both of your first trip together. A quarry had led you to Mimban, and - long story short - you’d had to break out of an imperial mine, using droids’ weapons against them, taking down a handful of stormtroopers before spending three days trekking through mud and swampland on your way back to the ship, the quarry nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>Unlike then, however, you’ll make it back easily - just three quarries to take down, another to imprison, and another to dismantle. <em>No questions</em> - your mission is to take Qin to Ran. It’s not your fault if the four you came with don’t make it back with you.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long to navigate back to the control room, and on your way your vambrace flashes - the kid opened the door from the inside. You let Din know silently, both of you sure that he can handle himself until you arrive - the droid should be occupied with telling the others where you are, he shouldn’t care about anything other than his programming, and curiosity is rarely something manufacturers bother to include in protocol droids. Though those kriffing bio trackers could pose a problem.</p>
<p>As Din works on shutting down the lights and sealing the doors, you turn to the comm. system. Din is still able to hear the goings on in the cockpit through the link in his helmet. Once you’ve successfully scrambled communications, it’ll take some work to fix, some time where he’s forced to go helmetless while you work.</p>
<p>“You’ve got it.” He informs you a moment later, none of the noise from the Crest reaching him. You won’t have long now, but the bio trackers are still visible on the nearest screen - Burg’s on his way to you, Xi’an not far behind, Mayfeld and Qin separated from them by the closing doors.</p>
<p>“You got him?” You ask.</p>
<p>“Get her.” He nods to you.</p>
<p>You trust him - it might be difficult, but Din says he can deal with the Devaronian without you, and you’ll respect his choice - you don’t have long before the New Republic will arrive, even less to round up the gang of nerfherders. You avoid Burg - just - his hulking form rounding the corner just as you get halfway down the corridor, hiding silently until he passes you, that single-minded anger blinding him to your form as he heads right for Din. You wait, then, knowing the female twi’lek will arrive soon, biding your time as you watch Din fall to the floor and Burg stumble backward, right into the doorway. As with your weapons store on the crest, even Burg isn’t strong enough to pry open the hydraulics, though all they do is knock him out.</p>
<p>A flash of purple in your periphery has you darting from your hiding spot, blaster aimed and ready.</p>
<p>“Wachamio.” You call. She spins round to face you, the smile dropping from her face as you pull the trigger, not even giving her a chance to fight back as you fire into her abdomen. “You don’t deserve a quick death.” You stare at her as she falls. “But I can’t risk them sending another rescue party. Sooran, shab!”</p>
<p>Another blaster bolt fires from the now-open door to the control room, it hits Xi’an in the back. You look up to find Din dragging Burg with one arm, the other pointing his blaster.</p>
<p>“Ret’lini.” He shrugs.</p>
<p>It takes you another few minutes to drag both bodies to Qin’s empty cell, but Din leaves you to lock the unconscious Devaronian and the ex-twi’lek inside, heading off to find Mayfeld.</p>
<p>Within two minutes, he’s back, throwing the man unceremoniously to the floor. You really don’t have time now, and you rush towards the <em>Crest</em>, stopping Qin moments before he heads up the ladder. You need him alive to collect the credits, unfortunately, but Din’s relaxed shoulders tell you he’s already got a plan to fix that.</p>
<p>There’s just the droid left to deal with, and you take the ladder first, neither of you trusting Qin enough to let him go first. You stand, sending the twi’lek a warning look to stay quiet, allowing Din the chance to blow Zero to bits. The kid sits, one hand raised, staring at his palm as though it was his magic powers that caused the small explosion. It’s with a fond look that you take him from the bed, heading into the cockpit, leaving Din with his old <em>friend</em> so you can get into hyperspace as soon as possible.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long to reach Ran’s space station, and you stay on board the Crest, letting Din handle the transaction. You move to the copilot seat, however, knowing he’ll want (and need) the familiar motions to help him through the kriffing awful day he’s had. The kid rests in your lap, exhausted from his game of hide and seek. It’s only a minute later that Din enters, dropping the bag of credits into your waiting hand, sighing heavily as he sinks into the seat. You take off quickly, Din flying faster than usual.</p>
<p>“Launching a gunship.” You observe, the screen to your side giving a read out of the ship’s surroundings. A moment later you smile, “Three X-wings.”</p>
<p>“I slipped the tracker into his pocket.” Din explains, looking around the headrest. As you enter hyperspace, he sighs again, body tense, “Cyar’ika, I-”</p>
<p>“I know.” You smile, standing. You put the child down, letting him curl into himself as you move behind Din’s chair, resting your hands on the sides of his helmet, “Can I?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” He assures, and you pull the beskar from his head, setting it on the floor beside him.</p>
<p>He’s never had to hide his facial expressions - the helmet obscures everything, the shock, fear, love, hate… Without it, he’s easy to read - everything seems so much more exaggerated compared to other lifeforms, and you’re still not sure if it’s because he’s naturally expressive or you’re just so used to the helmet.</p>
<p>He’s exhausted, in pain, and relieved. There’s a weight that’s lifted from his shoulders with the knowledge that the twi’lek siblings are dead, there’s absolutely no possibility that they can manipulate him anymore. The guilt he carries from his time with them will never leave him, but it’s easier to bare now - he knows what he did, and he knows they did worse, and in wiping them from existence he’s made up for some of his actions. <em>They can’t hurt anyone else</em>.</p>
<p>“Kill when necessary.” He whispers. “Thank you, Cyar’ika.”</p>
<p>“I would end them again if you asked.” You smile. He shifts, wincing. “What’s hurt?”</p>
<p>“Ribs.” He swallows hard, “Burg punched me.”</p>
<p>You nod, “Me too.” You lift your shirt, abdomen already marred by a fist-shaped bruise. “I’ll grab the kit.” You decide, turning to leave, accidentally nudging the console as you go.</p>
<p>A transmission flickers to life, making you pause. It’s Karga.</p>
<p>
  <em>My friend, if you are receiving this transmission that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other…</em>
</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>
  <b>Translations:</b>
</p>
<p><em>Jate</em> - good</p>
<p><em>Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.</em> - Today is a good day for someone else to die.</p>
<p><em>Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade! </em>- Don’t mess with Mandalorians!</p>
<p><em>Wachamio</em> - Let’s go (in Twi’leki)</p>
<p><em>Sooran, shab </em>- contemptuous and triumphant comment, such as ‘take that, bitch!’</p>
<p><em>Ret’lini</em> - Just in case</p>
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